


I Can't Stop Feeling For You

by xypeilo



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Intrusive Thoughts, M/M, Some Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 07:28:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7925929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xypeilo/pseuds/xypeilo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A typical morning with Hannibal</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can't Stop Feeling For You

**Author's Note:**

> This was mostly a small writing warm-up. Mama's gotta exercise these griplets.

Will never imagined a day like this. He never imagined to feel this way, _ever_. After months-- _years_ , of questioning his feelings for Hannibal and questioning his morality, not once did he envision this moment, with these sort of feelings. Feelings of love. The feeling he brushed off, overlooked, and ignored with his entire being all for the sake of doing what’s right. But what _is_ right and what _is_ wrong? What is normal? Will couldn’t understand how this man can stand outside society’s conformity with such ease. It took him a long time to realize that there is no wrong answer on how to live. You just do it. If Will had just acknowledged his feelings for Hannibal, all the mess between them wouldn’t have happened. They’d be where they are now a lot sooner--but with Abigail alive.

The sound of pans clattering in the kitchen gradually rouses him from his slumber. Half his face is buried in the satin pillow while the matching sheet covers up to his bare waist. The morning chill nips at his skin, and he grumpily pulls them over his shoulder while rubbing his face deeper into the pillow--smothering himself in the familiar scent he denies he can’t live without.

With exhaustion drenching his eyes, he stares off into the distance while he listens to Hannibal sing in french as he cooks breakfast. _He’s making bacon,_ Will guesses. But he never truly knows, even when the cannibal promises the few dishes he occasionally puts together are consisted solely of animals. His taste buds have become numb though, and he simply eats to keep his body functioning, and not for the aesthetic pleasure as Hannibal does.

The brunet decides to climb out of the king bed, picking up only his briefs off the mahogany floor and slipping them on. He trudges into the kitchen while rubbing his eyes, disregarding his glasses on the side table by the bed.

He finds the cannibalistic psychiatrist in his usual button down and slacks, with a towel over his shoulder as he rigorously shakes the frying pan full of scrambled eggs. His back is facing Will, and he is completely oblivious to his presence--but it’s only a matter of time before he picks up his scent.

If Will wanted, he could kill Hannibal right here and now. He could end this ridiculous game of “house” and move on to living a normal life where he doesn’t have to be on his toes all time. Where he’s not allied with a murderer and consuming countless innocent lives. He could grab the knife on the island behind Hannibal and kill him right there; He’d jab him from behind and puncture his liver--twist the blade, watch him choke on his own words and blood, and witness his very life drain from those beautiful gray eyes. It could be over in seconds.

But he doesn’t do that. Instead, he continues to drag his feet towards the cannibal and slides his hands on Hannibal’s sides until they wrap completely around his torso. He puts his face between his shoulder blades and inhales deeply, promptly groaning contently. Hannibal isn’t surprised, but he smiles warmly as he scoots the eggs onto a plate. He turns off the burner and rotates until Will’s face is now planted on his chest.

“You’ve rested well I presume?” Hannibal asks in his usual plain tone as he runs his fingers through Will’s hair.

The brunet’s voice comes out muffled. “My asshole hurts.”

“I’ve made a generic American breakfast to make up for it.”

Will looks up and rests his chin on his chest. “By American do you mean a _person_ or animal substances that Americans typically consume?”

“You have little faith in me, Will.” The cannibal chuckles. He then plants a kiss on the top of Will’s head. “But I promise you there is nothing suspicious about the eggs and bacon. I have proof.”

He points to the package of bacon and carton of eggs on the counter with his thumb. Will narrows his eyes suspiciously for a moment but pushes the thought aside and leans in for a kiss.

“Thank you.”

Hannibal wraps his arms around the brunet as the kiss deepens, occasionally teasingly sliding his hands under the briefs to grope his ass. He breaks the kiss first after awhile and stares into Will’s eyes. “I see you don’t have any productive plans today?”

Will throws his arms over his neck and plants kisses all over his face. “I plan,” _Smooch_. “to do normal things,” _Smooch_. “normal couples do.” _Smooch_.

“But today I have Mr. Gibson next on the list to--”

Will suddenly grabbed his face with both of his hands. “ _No_. Not today. We’re not killing anyone today.”

Hannibal stays silent for a moment, confirming the absolute seriousness in Will’s eyes. They’ve created an unspoken system of taking turns doing things the other wants to; Some days Will would participate in the typical murder spree for the next few dinners, and other days Hannibal would participate in Will’s typical hobbies such as spending time with the dogs, fishing, etc.

The cannibal finally nods, and Will sighs in relief, kissing him on the lips in appreciation. _This is fine,_ Will thinks. _This life is fine._


End file.
